


Drifting In The Clouds (Hurt So Pretty)

by Shakespeares_Girl



Series: Glam Mafia!  (It's Fabulous to be Bad) [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: angst_bingo, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-19
Updated: 2011-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 14:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for angst bingo.  Glamafia!fic.  Tommy's experiences while kidnapped by Cook.  Mentions a past relationship between Adam and Kris Allen.  Graphic descriptions of torture, and intended torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drifting In The Clouds (Hurt So Pretty)

Tommy wakes up staring at the ceiling, drywall stripped away to reveal wiring and pipes running under the floorboards. He's in a basement. The cool air on his skin gives that away. Fuck. Adam's gonna be so fucking mad when he's late for lunch.

It takes a second for Tommy to process past the Wrath of Adam. When he does it's to figure out that he's been stripped to the waist—possibly down to his boxers, but he can't move his head to be sure—and tied or strapped to a table. The places where his skin touches the table don't feel cold, so it's probably wood or plastic, and not metal. That eliminates this being a hospital of any sort, and pretty much puts them in the realm of “oh fuck, I think I just got kidnapped and I have no idea who did it or what to expect.” That brings Tommy back to “Holy shit, Adam is going to blow a gasket when he finds out.”

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. He isn't gagged, so it's probably useless to scream. Besides, if he does that, it'll just alert whoever's guarding him to the fact that he's awake. The longer he can put that off the better. Instead of calling out, he goes over who has issues with Adam right now, who has issues with Tommy himself, and who might be using Tommy to get at someone else in Adam's crew. All he can come up with is Cook, which isn't comforting, but at least he's pretty sure who's got him locked up in some basement.

Tommy can feel a headache starting, slow and insistent behind his forehead. He tries to distract himself, thinks about what he knows of Adam when he goes on the warpath. Tommy's only seen it once, when Adam somehow managed to get inside Cowell's defenses and shoot the bastard, which, coincidentally, had saved Tommy from having his eyes gouged out and being used for the rest of his extremely short life as a pleasure slave. When Adam had found out what Simon had planned for Tommy, and what had more than likely happened to his lover, Kris, he'd butchered pretty much the entire staff and crew inside Cowell's house, then torched the building, just for good measure. No one crosses Adam. No one.

Except Cook. Cook's been challenging Adam for the past three years, and Adam's been tolerating it because, as he put it, “competition is good business.” But lately Adam's getting sick of Cook's juvenile and dangerous tactics, and his threats against Adam, and has been slowly working to bring an end to the operation. Tommy shudders. Whatever happens to him, Cook's got the worse end of it, because when Adam shows up, it's gonna be a bloodbath. Adam has more guns, and more henchmen to wield them, than Tommy thought was possible. And he's ridiculously frightening when he flicks that bowie knife of his at you. Tommy grins up at the ceiling. Yeah, Cook's gonna regret this. Tommy just hopes he's there to see it.

* * *

Hours pass, and eventually, Tommy starts shaking from the cold. It's a basement, for fuck's sake, and he's bony and thin, and he's wearing like, shorts, okay? He's freezing. Of course, it's at this moment that the door pushes open, and even if he wanted to, Tommy couldn't flop limp and pretend to be asleep. He's shaking too hard.

“How long have you been awake?” the man in the door demands. He's not Cook, but from the way he carries himself and feels he's important, Tommy guesses he's fairly high up the ladder in Cook's outfit.

“Don't have a watch, and this room is surprisingly devoid of clocks,” Tommy explains. “So really, I have no idea how long I've been awake.” Taunting his captors may not be the most conventional way to deal with kidnapping, but Tommy's never been a conventional kind of guy.

“I suppose it doesn't really matter,” nameless thug says. “It's not like I'm gonna go easy on you cause you just woke up, now is it?”

“Probably not. Just promise me you're not going to do something stupid, like try and gouge my eyes out, and we're good.”

Nameless thug blinks down at Tommy, then laughs. “You think your beloved Prince Adam's gonna ride in here and save you? Let me tell you something, Ratliff, your boss? Lambert? He doesn't even know you're gone. And he isn't going to save you.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Tommy grins. “He knew I was missing no more than an hour after it happened. He's not here yet, granted, but he will be, soon. And when he shows up, you're going to die.”

“If that's what you want to believe,” nameless thug shrugs. “Let's get down to the fun part of this business, shall we?”

* * *

Tommy lets himself drift. He thinks a lot about Adam, how his blue eyes are so, infinitely sad except for when he's with Tommy, how Adam lets his guard down for him, and for no one else, not even Monte. When the cutting starts, Tommy closes his eyes and thinks about kissing Adam. It's like nothing else, like life and death and love and hope and sex.

He keeps drifting, not bothering to regulate his voice, when he screams, if he screams. He's pretty sure it doesn't matter, that this is heading to the one place that will completely destroy the man behind the blue eyes Tommy's in love with.

“You know,” Tommy says, voice surprisingly conversational as his vision whites out around the edges and nameless thug slices a thin cut across Freddy's hockey mask, “if you kill me, I'm going to sit in heaven and laugh when Adam comes for you.” He drifts further away after that, and even though he can hear nameless thug taunting him, he doesn't answer, too busy floating in hazy-painful clouds in the sky.

For a second, he thinks he sees Kris, smiling sadly and somehow silently urging Tommy back down to earth. _You need to fight. Fight for him_.

Tommy forces his eyes open. Nameless thug has a pair of pliers and an evil grin on his face. “Open wide,” he leers. Tommy never gets the chance to respond. Blood spray hits the wall, once, twice, and nameless thug falls to the ground. Tommy takes a shaky breath, and Adam's there, standing over him, hands everywhere, untying him, checking his wounds.

“Are you all right?”

“Had worse,” Tommy shrugs. “Get me outta here?”

Wordlessly, Adam wraps Tommy up in his suit jacket, and Tommy takes a second to appreciate the way Adam looks in shirtsleeves and holsters, before Adam scoops him up and carries him out of the room, out of the basement. “Pretty sure you're never leaving my sight again,” Adam finally growls.

“I can live with that,” Tommy agrees. The haze of Adam and Pain is clearing, and Tommy's suddenly struck by just how much everything hurts. He turns his face into Adam's neck, unwilling to let anyone else see how weak he feels just now. “Hurts,” he whines.

Adam turns his head, and Tommy looks up at him, and Adam kisses him, soft and sweet and perfect, and Tommy clings tighter to Adam's shoulders, because maybe as long as he never has to let go, everything will be all right.


End file.
